Statues
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The InterviewChapter 7: But Only The Statues Remain Silent free porn video
This is fiction. Any resemblance between the content of this story or any of the characters depicted herein and real persons or events is highly unlikely and purely coincidental.
"These allegations are false!" Gordon Henderson faced a throng of reporters. In his mind, a throng had to contain at least twenty cameras and at least seven satellite trucks. He stood two steps above the wide concrete upper deck. The last fifteen steps waited behind him, separating him from the courthouse entryway. The venue had been moved to Billings, Montana. This was a disaster in the making.
"Isn't it true that videos of staff members sexually abusing the clients were emailed to the Attorneys General of Montana and thirteen other states?" Jessica Ramsey stared at the high-powered lawyer. He stood mute, rolling his eyes. "Mr. Henderson, then can you tell us why Dr. Arlington was trying to cure homosexuality when it has been accepted for over a decade that it is not a disease?" She thrust the microphone toward him, digging for a response, challenging his ego.
"It is futile for me to try this in the court of public opinion. Until further notice, all communication will be through press releases." He turned and climbed the remaining steps and entered the courthouse. Gordon ignored the reporters who chased behind him. Crossing over to the security station reserved for officers of the court, he escaped into a limited access area.
Jessica turned back to face her cameraman. "After last night's revelations by World News Network investigative reporter Anne Birch, a nationwide conspiracy was uncovered. Video provided by the group calling themselves the Rainbow Warriors detailed the rescue of sixteen children and adults who were reported to have been sent to Madison River Sanatorium to cure them of their homosexual tendencies."
The on-site producer instructed Jessica to turn slightly and look back up at the courthouse. It would allow graphics insertion during future broadcasts. He was impressed; this was his first time working with Jessica.
"A vehicle fire at the Madison River Sanatorium yesterday led to the authorities discovering its staff had been detained and the patients were missing. WNN has confirmed that the video shown last night on World News Network was sent to law enforcement agencies across the nation. The Montana State Police and the FBI have instituted a nationwide hunt for Dr. Gregory Hugh Arlington. Unsubstantiated reports indicate that every computer printer in the facility was printing documentation in the forms of pictures and orders signed by Dr. Arlington. This is Jessica Ramsey of the World News Network, reporting from Billings, Montana."
Her cameraman signaled the shot was a wrap. Jessica turned off the wireless hand mike. She waited for the cameraman to secure his equipment and place it into standby mode. Together, they walked back to the World News Network satellite truck.
Gordon Henderson entered the consultation room. There waiting for him was Robert Darcy. Bob served as the president of Lamp Unto My Feet, the nonprofit agency who owned and funded the Madison River Sanatorium. Strain was evident on his face. "Gordon, get me out of here."
"Bob, stay calm." Gordon set his briefcase on the table. From inside he retrieved stacks of stapled papers. He gave one packet to Bob. "I've managed to convince the judge you're not a flight risk. You will need to use the equity in the lumberyard to secure your bond." Bob looked up at Gordon. The lawyer nodded his head. Then he looked back at the packet. "This is beyond our backyard. Subpoenas have been issued to examine the Lamp's finances, meeting notes, and any documentation relating to the sanatorium. I have a friend who saw part of what was printed." Gordon stopped until Bob meet his gaze. "Be honest with me Bob, did you have any knowledge of what was going on out there?"
Bob stared at Gordon, then shook his head no. "How could you even think... ?" He looked at the papers then turned, looking up at Gordon again. "No, Gordon, I never knew."
"As the attorney representing the nonprofit, it is a question I had to ask." Gordon sat down opposite Bob. "This is beyond fixing by using friends of friends. We are looking at multiple federal, state, and local jurisdictions." Gordon produced a packet from a sealed pocket in his briefcase. "Kidnapping, civil rights violations, all three versions of the Mann Act, not to mention corresponding laws and court tampering charges from thirteen states."
Bob hung his head and grabbed his hair with both hands. "They told us it was a drug treatment facility."
"Did they ever present that to the board in writing?" Gordon was disgusted. He had known Bob for the last seventeen years. Today, he did not know if his old friend told the truth.
"Wait," Bob looked up, "it was the week after the first CAP testing centers opened. The trustees had to vote to let that doctor apply to purchase, store, and administer methadone." A tiny moment of hope flashed from Bob's eyes.
"Are you sure?" Gordon was pressing the speed button for his office. "I need to talk to Kelly," he said, and looked back at Bob.
"Yes, I remember we made jokes about scoring high enough to audition for the next episode of Average Joes."
"You may have just saved your ass, Bob." Gordon turned his attention back to the phone. "Kelly, remember when the paralegals all got CAP tested during the first week the testing center was opened?" The corners of Gordon's mouth started to turn up and form a smile. "I need you to photocopy all of the Lamp Unto My Feet records from that month up through their last meeting."
"Gordon, have I been released?"
"Your release is scheduled for 4:00 PM this afternoon. At 4:15 I and Trevor Barnes together will rush from the front door to the waiting limousine." Gordon tapped the back of his cell phone. "My associate, Kelly Garcia, will escort you to my SUV where your wife Judy will be waiting."
"Bless you Gordon. I don't think I could survive here overnight."
It had to be a dream. Three things led him to that conclusion. First, there was a sense of safety. The last time he felt like this was the week before his mom disappeared. The gnawing at his muscles, that early stage of withdrawal that would force him into a ball, was abated. Finally, his ass didn't ache.
More sensations began to flood into his mind. The mattress cradled his form. He did not lay on the thin dank vinyl one on the floor. He wasn't cold. His cell, the whole sanatorium, was usually cold. Light began to filter into the space. He was beginning to wake up. Michael Powers fought to stay asleep. The reality in this dream felt good.
With the light increasing, Michael realized he was losing the battle to stay asleep. He was awake but not lying on the thin mattress. A wisp of escaping air brought to his attention that the top of the bed was lifting away. The lifting lid exposed three men staring at him.
"Hello Michael," the man on the right dressed in black was speaking, "I am Jason Grant." He looked at the people standing at Jason's right. The man in the middle wore green. The one on the end was dressed in gray. "Standing next to me is Jacob Kennedy, and on the end, Edward Polanski."
Michael remained absolutely still, he was aware he had an erection. The staff enjoyed sadistic games. Any moment he expected Rollo or Chad to show up with the flyswatter and chastise him for the stiffy. He decided to play mute.
Commander Kennedy lifted Michael easily from the medtube. The boy shivered and then began shaking his head no. "I'm not going to hurt you."
Michael could only manage a whisper. "Am I going to a treatment room?"
"No," Commander Kennedy answered.
Michael decided to take a chance. This giant looked like he could break Chad into pieces. "Where are you taking me?"
"Somewhere safe."
Studying the face of his protector, Michael found he couldn't contain his emotions. He leaned in and started to cry. He didn't count the doors they passed through. Eventually, the giant put him in a chair.
"This is where you're going to stay for a few days." Commander Kennedy walked over to a little kitchenette. He returned with some tissues. "Wipe your eyes." He pointed behind Michael to the left. "The bathroom is behind you. The microwave will provide you with any finger foods or nonalcoholic beverage you ask for. There is a sink to rinse items in and all the garbage goes into the recycle drop."
Michael looked over and scanned the kitchenette. He identified the microwave and the door with the recycle symbol.
"How about we start you with a cheeseburger and French Fries?" The commander walked over to the microwave. He repeated the order. "What type of drink?" He turned and looked back at Michael.
"Could I have," Michael searched his memories for a favored taste, "a root beer?" Michael winced, expecting a reaction.
There was a ding. The commander carried a tray to the table. "One replicator special," he placed the tray before Michael. "Salt, pepper, ketchup?"
"Mayo, ketchup please."
Jacob walked back toward the microwave. Michael inhaled the aroma of the food. He could only stare at the bounty before him. Hands placed squeeze bottles of mayonnaise, mustard, and ketchup on the table. "Eat," the commander instructed.
The root beer tasted good. Michael squirted a large dollop of ketchup next to his fries for dipping. He swirled some mayonnaise on the bun. He took a bite. He looked at the commander and waited until the commander signaled for him to eat more.
"In this package," Commander Kennedy placed a paper bag on the table, "are some pajamas. You have a choice as to whether you want to be dressed or not." Commander Kennedy crossed back and placed a similar order.
Michael sat, staring at the bag of pajamas on the table. He definitely was no longer in the tan room with the bars on the windows. The floors, walls, and even the ceilings appeared to be a polished dark gray stone with a satin finish. Commander Kennedy sat down and had two burgers on his plate with the fries. He also placed a pitcher between them and took a sip of his drink.
"They always said if we ever escaped they would hunt us down." Michael looked up, pleading into his giant protector's eyes. "Can you tell me this place is safe from them?" The commander was chewing. "Can they just sneak in here and take me?"
The commander swallowed. He took a small sip, before he answered the boy's fears. "Michael, you are on the moon."
"Mia, do you think the AI would let me replicate a bottle brush?" Marsha whispered at the table while the littlest girls were waiting for breakfast pastries.
Mia turned and looked at Marsha. "The glassware usually gets recycled."
Marsha leaned in real close, whispering, "I think I have a yeast infection."
Dropping her fork, Mia turned to glare at Philip. "Oh master," she put both of her hands on the table, helping her to stand. "Did you forget something?" She walked around to where Philip sat. Tina's three little ones rushed to their seats. They cut off Mia's approach on Philip.
Philip stared at Mia. He then made eye contact with each of his women. Something was wrong; he wanted to survive, "Yes." He hoped the admission would cover his ass.
Mia stood behind Philip. She pressed her bare breast into his back. She ran her fingernails, softly down his chest and into his chest hair. She rolled her fingers achieving a good purchase. Then she tugged.
"Papa's in trouble." The middle child broke the tension. Lucy's voice sounded lyrical, almost pixie like.
It was the littlest girl's turn next. "All the mommies look happy." Lena had witnessed mechanical aspects of sex. The AI man had convinced her that sex was only for the grownups. She understood that everybody felt good afterwards. The mommies always said Philip made them happy.
"Mamma Mia is staring at Mamma Marsha," Laura noted. "In science, Miss Prescott said to always observe before you report."
Philip quickly clicked through the facts. Marsha was talking to Mia, Marsha's cunt felt like it had grains of sand in it this morning, and Mia is pulling at the chest hair. Sub-vocally, Philip called the AI for help in analyzing any clue available.
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